


Remedy

by moonlittides



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Complicated Relationships, Crack Relationships, F/F, Forbidden, Friends to Lovers, Internal Conflict, Lesbian Sex, Maidservant Sansa, Oral Sex, POV Daenerys, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Queen Daenerys, Sexual Tension, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 18:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlittides/pseuds/moonlittides
Summary: In the months that Sansa has been working as Queen Daenerys' maidservant, a beautiful friendship has blossomed between the two. Despite being stations and worlds apart, Daenerys has been unable to suppress her growing attraction to Sansa and finally decides it's time for the pair to remedy the brewing tension between them.





	Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a scene from GOT 3x08 where Daenerys is in the tub. I didn't give much thought to the setting, it's loosely based on the ASOIAF universe - Daenerys is a queen and she has her dragons (although they only briefly mentioned) but Sansa is not a high-born, she's a maidservant. 
> 
> Since Daenerys is a queen and Sansa is her subject, there are some slight power issues and conflict that comes from being at such different stations and the pair bump up against that throughout.

“Your bath is ready, Your Grace,” Doreah announces. 

“Thank you, Doreah,” Daenerys replies. 

Doreah acknowledges her with a bow of her head and a smile before exiting the room. Daenerys is grateful for the evenings and the reprieve they bring. Being a queen is no easy task; the days are long and arduous, filled with an endless stream of politics, requests and civilities. As queen she must be everything that the people want, everything they need, and sometimes it takes all the strength she has just to muster up a simple smile. But at night, here in her private chambers, she doesn’t have to be anything at all. She can simply be. She can also choose the company she keeps, which is a luxury that is not otherwise afforded to her. 

Daenerys steps up to the tub which is steaming, sheds her silken robe and climbs in. The water is so hot that Daenerys has to submerge herself gradually, one foot at a time and then stooping down slowly to allow her body to adjust to the temperature. When she finally sinks into the water, she immediately feels the hotness of the water ease the tension in her body and she lets out a deep sigh of relief. She rests her head on the back of the tub and lets her eyes fall shut. A few minutes later Doreah returns to prepare her bed for sleep and bring her fresh bedclothes. 

“Oh, Doreah?” Daenerys calls out just as she’s about to leave again. 

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Could you send for Sansa?” 

“Of course, Your Grace.” 

With that, Doreah heads off and Daenerys smiles. Sansa is one of Daenerys’ newest maidservants, but despite being the newest, in the months she has been with her, she has come to be the one Daenerys is most fond of. Unlike her other maidservants Sansa has intellect and wit and is a great conversationalist. She is also beautiful. So very, very beautiful. That is something Daenerys couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried. She often catches herself admiring Sansa’s beauty… her radiant smile that lightens up her face, the way her flame red hair burns like a fire when the light bounces off it, how looking into her crystal blue eyes is like looking into the deepest ocean, how her dress clings to the voluptuous curves of her body and pert ass, how her cleavage peaks out from the top… 

Daenerys’ thoughts are interrupted by a light knock at her door. “Enter,” Daenerys beckons. 

Sansa enters. “Your Grace.” The young redhead acknowledges her with a brief curtsey. “Doreah said that you wished to see me?” 

Daenerys smiles the first genuine smile she has smiled all day. “Yes. Come in, please.” 

Sansa does as Daenerys requests and closes the door behind her. 

“Is there something you need, Your Grace?” Sansa asks, politely. 

“No. I only wished to be in your company.” 

“Oh.” Sansa says quietly, bowing her head shyly, her cheeks flushing pink. 

Daenerys loves many things about the evenings but being able to share Sansa’s company is one of them. Sansa is never far from Daenerys’ side, but in public their interactions are short and formal. In private, they’re different. Daenerys would call her a friend, but that’s not quite the word to describe her. No, Sansa is something else… 

“Could you bring me some washcloths, please?” 

Sansa brings them over immediately and steps away from the tub briskly, averting her eyes so as to protect Daenerys’ dignity. The problem is, Daenerys doesn’t want her to. Not anymore. For too long Daenerys has dismissed the thoughts she’s had of Sansa, the emotions she stirs in her and the way her body reacts whenever she is near her, but she doesn’t want to do that any longer. As a queen she must always be in control, she must always do what’s required of her, but for once she wants to do what she wants, to indulge herself and relieve the tension that being around Sansa creates deep in her core. 

“Will you help me wash?” Daenerys asks Sansa. 

Sansa comes back to the tub and takes the cloth from Daenerys’ hand without question. Though their hands touch for only a moment as they exchange the cloth, the skin on skin contact awakens something inside Daenerys that she hasn’t felt in a very long time. It’s the same way she feels whenever she’s in Sansa’s presence and it’s a way that only Sansa makes her feel. 

Daenerys looks up at Sansa with intense eyes. Sansa gets down onto her knees beside the tub and Daenerys can sense how nervous she is. As she sweeps her silver hair over her shoulder and leans forward so Sansa can scrub her back she knows that she hasn’t been imagining the bubbling tension between them. It’s like a fire raging between them, white hot and wild. She can hear how shallow Sansa’s breathing is. She scrubs Daenerys back gentle but firm, up and down, up and down. Daenerys lets her eyes fall shut so that her body can fully absorb the sensations of the touch. 

“Have I ever told you the reason I bath every evening?” 

“No, Your Grace. I don’t believe you have. Although I presumed it was to maintain your personal hygiene.”

Daenerys laughs. “Yes, there is that. But it’s also where I can allow my body to relax as well as my mind. The body can become so twisted and contorted by the burdens of the mind and sometimes the body needs a—a, well, a release, if you will.” 

Daenerys feels the rhythm of Sansa’s scrubbing change slightly and hears her gulp. 

“Men fight and they fornicate in seeking their own release, but as a queen, fighting isn't an option. There is sex, but I've found that there is no man that is capable of pleasing me in the way I would like. No, I've found that there is only one way of finding my release.” 

“Oh?” Sansa's high voice inquires.

Daenerys leans back and turns her head to look at Sansa. For once Sansa’s head isn’t low, it is high and her gaze is fixed on Daenerys. Her pupils are so large that the blue of her eyes is only a thin rim around the edges. 

"It's when I'm here...alone in the tub...with my thoughts and my hands..."

Daenerys takes the wet cloth used to scrub her back from Sansa’s hand and slowly guides Sansa’s hand to her breast. Sansa’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t fight Daenerys on it and she doesn’t remove her hand either. Her pale, warm hand remains cupped around Daenerys’ bare breast and Sansa stares at her own hand in wonderment and surprise as though she cannot quite comprehend what’s happening. 

Daenerys reaches her hand out to stroke a strand of red hair behind Sansa’s ear and says, “I think of you as I lay in this tub…” Daenerys’ voice is quiet, barely a whisper. “as I’ve ran my hands over my naked body I picture you, your face, your hands…” 

“Your Grace—” Sansa goes to move her hand but Daenerys holds it in place with her own hand. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, the look you get in your eyes. It’s the same look that men have when they look at me.” 

“I—I—” Sansa stammers. 

“I do not ask anything of you, Sansa. I’m not giving you orders as your queen. Your actions are always your choice and no one, not even I, can take that away. But know this; know that I desire you and have done for a time now, and if you choose to, I give you leave of my body, heart and soul.” 

Daenerys holds Sansa’s eyes, anxiously awaiting her response. She means every word she says – she will allow Sansa to walk out of here right now and resume as normal tomorrow, but she’s hoping with every ounce of her being that Sansa doesn’t walk away, because she needs her. Her body is practically screaming out for her. 

"I know I haven't imagined that there's something between us. Let us remedy this, together. You don't have to be afraid. This isn't a trick. I want this. I want you." 

Eventually Sansa’s eyes shift down to her outstretched hand which is still on Daenerys’ breast. Her hand lightly and tentatively squeezes causing Daenerys’ heart to leap in her chest. 

“Oh, Gods…” Sansa whispers it, but it’s practically a moan. A moan that propels Daenerys forward until her lips are on Sansa’s. 

The kiss is brief, lasting only a second, but when Daenerys leans back to search Sansa’s eyes, Sansa lurches forward again catching Daenerys off-guard in the best possible way. Sansa’s hand moves from Daenerys’ breast to cup her face and the two kiss desperately, moans escaping them as months of pent up sexual attraction rushes to the surface. The tub prevents them from being able to get closer to each other, so Daenerys climbs out and throws herself into Sansa’s body, not caring that she’s naked and sopping wet.   
Daenerys has Sansa pinned up against the nearest wall and is so ferocious in the intensity of her kiss that onlookers might presume she was attacking her. Not that Sansa seems to mind, she’s practically growling in response and is frantically tugging at her own clothing in a bid to shed herself of it. Daenerys assists her, desperate to feast her eyes upon Sansa’s body. Meanwhile, Sansa’s hands run down Daenerys’ bare back, to her hips and her ass. All of the shyness Sansa has exhibited in these passing months seems to completely disappear. Gone is the meek, polite and proper young girl Daenerys meet all those months ago and in her place is a decisive, sexy and ravenous lover. 

When Sansa’s clothes are spread all over the floor and she’s as naked as Daenerys, the pair take pause and laugh breathlessly in ecstasy. As a powerful queen, Daenerys has often been used to getting what she wants, but she never expected to have Sansa naked and at her mercy, no matter how much she hoped for it. Sansa’s soft hands relentlessly caress Daenerys’ body as they massage their tongues together and the ache between Daenerys’ legs grows into a throb. It becomes so unbearable that her hips involuntarily gyrate desperately seeking friction by any means necessary. Sansa is so attuned to Daenerys’ body that she seems able to read it without Daenerys speaking. 

She pulls away from Daenerys’ mouth and says, “Patience, Your Grace. Patience.” 

“I can’t. I need you. I need you.” Daenerys would be embarrassed about how pitifully desperate she sounds if she weren’t so caught up in a whirlwind of sexual passion and desire.   
Sansa’s hand slowly trails down her stomach, growing painstakingly closer to her throbbing centre. When her fingers finally land on her mound, Daenerys cannot help but throw her head back against the wall and moan out in relief. She has imagined this exact moment every evening for months and the reality of it is too much for her mind or body to comprehend. Sansa’s fingers begin to lightly massage her as her teeth lightly nibble at her collar bone and Daenerys wonders if this is just another vivid fantasy she’s having alone in the tub. The moment that Sansa’s finger enters her, she knows that this is no mere fantasy. She cups Sansa’s face with her hands and smiles at her, before kissing her hard and fast, unable to express her lust for her adequately. She winds her hands in Sansa’s red hair as Sansa begins to move her finger inside her. 

“Oh, Gods,” Daenerys breathes. 

“Do you like that, Your Grace?” 

“Yes. Gods, yes.” 

Without warning, Sansa removes her fingers and Daenerys’ eyes fly open. 

“What--?” she questions, breathless and disappointed. 

Sansa gestures for the bed and Daenerys throws herself back into Sansa’s arms. The pair fumble as they walk backwards and somehow they manage to land atop the soft mattress of Daenerys’ bed. Sansa straddles Daenerys, rubbing their naked flesh together and Daenerys cannot help but reach up to cup Sansa’s pert and round breasts in her hands.   
Daenerys wants Sansa’s fingers back inside her, but also doesn’t want this to ever end. Sansa sits up and looks down at Daenerys. “Now, lie back and relax, my queen.”   
Sansa spreads kisses across every inch of Daenerys’ petite body as she gradually makes her way south. This time, Daenerys keeps her eyes open and watches Sansa, in awe of everything she’s doing. When she lands between Daenerys’ thighs she smiles before swiping her tongue between her folds firmly and quickly. 

“Oh!” Daenerys cries out. She didn’t expect that. “Again,” she asks. 

“Your wish is my command.” 

Sansa’s tongue darts out again and slides against Daenerys’ folds more slowly. Again, and again, and again. Then she kisses her. A soft, firm kiss right at her centre. Then she uses her tongue again; her long, warm, wet tongue. It’s utterly delightful as Sansa’s tongue flits in all directions, at varying paces, always giving Daenerys what she wants whilst simultaneously leaving her wanting more. Once again, Daenerys has no control over her body and as Sansa works out every tension in her body with just her mouth, her hips sway and gyrate in rhythm with her mouth. When Sansa’s tongue enters her silken cunt Daenerys arches her back and winds her fingers into Sansa’s hair, guiding the movements of her head. 

Daenerys has had some of the most intense sexual experiences of her life alone in the tub imaging Sansa’s hands and mouth on her, but nothing could compare to the real thing. Daenerys isn’t even reaching her peak yet, but the pleasure and ecstasy she’s experiencing already tops any orgasm she’s ever had in her life. 

“More,” Daenerys breathes. “More.” 

“What do you want?” 

Without hesitation Daenerys replies, “A finger.” 

She feels Sansa smile against her flesh. “Yes, Your Grace.” 

Sansa continues to eat Daenerys and slides a finger inside her with ease. Daenerys is so wet that one isn’t enough so she asks for another, and Sansa obliges. Daenerys is only satiated when Sansa has three fingers inside her and she can feel her filling her insides. Sansa manages to be tender but rough at the same time as she expertly massages Daenerys’ sweet spot, her mouth still devouring her. The stimulation from Sansa’s mouth and fingers causes a tension to build in Daenerys’ stomach so tight that her muscles begin to go rigid and her breathing becomes erratic. As the pace of Sansa’s fingers increase and she sucks on her erect nub, Daenerys teeters on the edge of oblivion. Suddenly the world comes to a standstill and all goes quiet, then BOOM. Daenerys’ body erupts with a pleasure so intense that she blacks out and loses all sense of control. The screams that escape her are relentless and frenzied as every muscle in her body spasms and her cunt erratically pulsates with orgasm after orgasm. Sansa desperately scrambles to cover her mouth for fear someone will think she’s in danger and burst in on them. 

With her body laid atop Daenerys, Sansa waits for her to ride out her high, watching her in awe. The immediate aftermath leaves Daenerys exhausted and exhilarated, her head light and her body tingling. When she opens her eyes, Sansa is right there looking back at her. 

“Wow…” Daenerys breathes. “Wow. I didn’t expect—I never imagined—” She tries to form a coherent sentence, but she’s at a complete loss for words. 

“You’ve had a very long and stressful day, Your Grace. You deserved this.” 

Sansa’s words immediately cause a shift in Daenerys’ mood. She sits up and frowns at her. “What--? So you--? This was you fulfilling your duty, was it? Well, I didn’t order you to do anything.” 

“No, Your Grace, you misunderstand, I—” 

“I’m your queen, Sansa. Lest you forget.” 

Sansa reaches for a blanket to cover herself and gets up from the bed. The beautiful moment they just shared seemingly shattered in an instant. “I didn’t forget, Your Grace. I couldn’t. No matter how much I may want to.”

“What does that mean?”

Sansa shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. If there’s nothing else you require, Your Grace, I should like to retire to my own quarters.” 

Daenerys is so conflicted she feels her head is about to explode. She’s still naked and covered in sweat, the touch of Sansa’s fingertips still on her skin, her thighs dripping from where she pleasured her to the most mind-blowing climax of her life and yet they’re back to queen and maidservant as though nothing has changed. 

“No, I want to know what you meant.”

“Your Grace—”  
“Stop calling me that!” Daenerys explodes in a fit of anger. “My name is Daenerys.” 

“I apologise for what happened—for what I—I shouldn’t have—” Sansa stammers. “I have a duty to you, to your kingdom and I was weak—I’m sorry.”

“Do you say this because it is what you truly feel or because it’s what you believe you should say to me as your queen?” In an instant, Daenerys’ defences fall. She’s hurt by Sansa’s words and she can’t pretend not to be. “Because if you say it because I’m your queen, there’s no need. I’m also a woman. A flesh and blood woman, just like you are. Everything that happened here I wanted. Did you—Do you not feel the same?” 

Sansa hangs her head and inhales deeply. “Yes.” 

Daenerys gets off the bed and goes to Sansa. “Then why do you say these things?” 

“Because you are a queen and I’m a lowly maidservant. It’s not…appropriate. If anyone had discovered us—” 

“You said it yourself. I’m a queen. My private matters are my own and no one else’s.” 

“Even still, if we were compromised—” 

“I could have them burned to ash with one word.” 

Sansa raises her eyebrows at Daenerys and they both break out into laughter. 

When their laughter subsides Daenerys says, “Sansa, you may not be a queen but you've seen what it’s like to be one. You have been by my side, you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Always having to be what they want me to be, never being able to truly say what I think or how I feel. And one day I’ll have to marry who they want me to and likely spend my life with a man I detest. This—you and I, and what happened here, I don’t do it for any other reason than because I want to. And I didn't do it as a queen, I did it as me. As Daenerys."

Tears are reflected in Sansa’s eyes at hearing Daenerys’ words, because she does understand. They may be from different worlds and to everyone else they may be nothing alike, but they share a inexplicable bond that connects them to one another in a profound. There have been times where Sansa has envied Daenerys' power as queen, but she also knows that with that power comes sacrifice. Sansa can love freely and marry whom she wishes, but Daenerys has an obligation and duty to her kingdom and her people that she will carry until the day she dies. 

“So…” Daenerys, asks self-consciously, “…do you still wish to return to your quarters or would you...would you like to stay?” 

“I—I think I want to stay.” 

“You think? But you’re not sure?” 

Knowing that the attraction between them is too strong for Sansa to deny, Daenerys entices her by leaning in to Sansa and lightly grazing her neck with her mouth. She hears Sansa let out a deep breath as she leans her neck to the side to give Daenerys better access. Daenerys continues to scatter soft kisses along Sansa’s neck, intoxicated by her scent and the taste of her skin. 

“Fire,” Daenerys says. 

“Excuse me?” 

“That’s what it is between us. I didn’t understand it before, but I do now. Fire burns bright and hot, it cannot be ignored. It grows and it spreads uncontrollably, getting hotter and fiercer. When you kissed me…when you touched me…it ignited a fire within me that I don’t think will ever go out.” 

Sansa reaches out for Daenerys' face and gazes upon her adoringly. “Fire,” she whispers. “That must be what it is.” 

Sansa leans in closer to Daenerys' body and even the feel of her body against her and her hands on her face causes Daenerys to burn with lust and want and arousal. 

“Then you want to stay?” Daenerys asks. 

“Yes,” Sansa breathes. "I believe we still have more remedying to do, Daenerys." 

Daenerys' heart leaps in her chest. That is the first time Sansa has ever called her by her first name. In any other circumstance it would be a mark of disrespect, but here and now it is so meaningful that it brings tears to Daenerys' eyes. The pair beam at each other before they give into their desires once more and come together in a frenzied and desperate kiss. The blanket Sansa wrapped about herself falls to the floor and this time they don’t go slow, they’re too hungry for each other. 

Daenerys returns the favour to Sansa, lavishing her with attention and worshipping her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, leaving no inch of her sweet skin unsavoured. She turns Sansa inside out until she’s as much of a sweaty, breathless, writhing mess as Daenerys was, and she still doesn’t stop. They make love over and over throughout the night both utterly consumed by the fire burning between them.


End file.
